


Hopes and Expectations

by Mack_the_Spoon



Series: Bloodlines [13]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Pregnancy/Baby fic, also some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz and Ressler are moving forward with this 'normal life' idea, although they both discover that they have a lot to learn about preparing to be parents. (And normal may be a stretch, as well!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the next installment of the 'Bloodlines' series Namarie and I have been writing. If you'd like to read the other stories in the series, you can find a list of them in order [here](http://namarie24.livejournal.com/120242.html).
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!  
> (Also, how about all the fantastic Keenler feels S3 has given us so far, hmm???)

With Ressler's approval, Liz only waited one day after getting the results of her blood test back to call Red to tell him. “Lizzie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you and Donald.”

“Thank you,” she said. “We're pretty thrilled. You're the first person we've told.”

He still sounded serious as he thanked her in turn. “May I tell Dembe?”

“Go ahead,” said Liz. “We can trust him not to spread the news around. But, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something. Related to, um, the news.”

“So, this might be something you'd rather discuss in person.”

She told him it was. It was definitely personal enough. “Will that work?”

“How about lunch?” Red suggested. “Or have you already eaten?”

“Not yet. Lunch would be perfect.”

Her father took her to a hole-in-the-wall Chinese place that was across town from their house. “Sadly, they don't do takeout, but I think you'll like it, anyway,” he told her.

“Don't tell me that's a dig at me for when I used to have your number below my favorite Chinese takeout place in my speed dial,” Liz said, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course not,” he said, his expression the picture of innocence.

He was right about her enjoying the food, as always. And they had the place almost to themselves, which made it ideal for the conversation she wanted to have. “So, I told Don I didn't think our kids would be dragons,” she said, swallowing a bite of chicken and broccoli. “And yes, I realize we probably should have talked about this before... before my season. But, anyway, now I'm not so sure I'm right about that.”

Red nodded. “And you were hoping I could shed some light on the subject.”

“Yeah. I'm not trying to pry, but I guess the reason I'm not sure is because I don't know very much about your past,” she admitted. There was no point beating around the bush.

“Lizzie, I've told you so little about my past, this one question in this context could hardly be called prying,” he replied gently. He poured himself another cup of tea from the pot the restaurant had provided, and took a minute to respond. “I won't promise you a definitive answer either way, with regards to your children. However, I have no objection to telling you that your grandmother on my side was a dragon, and your grandfather had dragon blood, as well.”

Liz blinked. She could not begin to imagine what Red's parents might have been like, nor what it would have been like to know them. Simultaneously, she realized his mom could be alive, though it didn't sound like it, and that his dad would likely be dead of old age. “Okay,” she said, since she hadn't made any response yet. Her throat was thick, and she reached for her own cup of tea.

“I'm afraid I have no knowledge of your mother's parents,” said Red. “I do know she wasn't pureblood human.”

Putting down her cup, she clasped her hands together. As she'd known it would, this topic was bringing up all of her childhood longing to know more about who she was and where she'd come from. It had never really gone away. But her child would not have the same angst, at least. “So... I was wrong, wasn't I? That sounds like our kids could be dragons. Right?”

“As I said, I wouldn't promise either way,” said Red. He smiled faintly. “I myself was taken by surprise – though I really shouldn't have been – when I discovered that you were a dragon.”

“When was that?” She already knew, she thought. “After the fire?”

“Yes,” he said. “It's not as automatic with a child, who hasn't transformed yet, but it is possible to tell from a very early age.”

“How?”

“Roughly the same way you're able to tell if any person you meet is a dragon,” he said. “You have to look a little closer, is all.”

That wasn't as vague as it sounded. Liz knew as well as he did that it was hard to describe what it was about a person that another dragon could recognize that demonstrated their draconic nature. She nodded, then cleared her plate and leaned back. “That means Don and I will have to wait, what, a few years before we're sure?”

“Perhaps,” said Red. “I suppose it may be sooner.”

His eyes were dark, and it didn't take any effort on her part to sense that whatever he was remembering, it was causing him pain. Which was probably no wonder, if it had to do with the fact that he hadn't been present for the first several years of her life, or that Jennifer had died at a young age, as well. She didn't want to force him to relive any of that. “I guess we'll find out,” she said, and her smile was real as she moved one hand to her belly. “Too bad he or she wouldn't have any telepathic ability until they transform, anyway, or maybe it could be a lot sooner.”

He lost his grave expression. “And your husband has no preference, I take it.”

“Nope,” she said. “Neither do I.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I'm still wrapping my head around having a kid at all, much less adding in the dragon issue, either way.”

“Perfectly natural,” he told her. “Since the two of you are of the same mind when it comes to the dragon issue, that's the most important thing.”

She couldn't fault his logic. Still, she was a little nervous when she next saw Don. What if he'd secretly been relieved to learn he wasn't going to be outnumbered in his own house by dragons? She did her best to assure herself that was stupid (after all, the amount of time he had shared living space with both her and Red would seem to belie that already). And he had been so calm, asking her about their child's first transformation, so matter-of-fact. He could have just told her he thought they should go for adoption, if he had really been worried about it. He wanted this.

“How was lunch?” Don asked when she came in.

“It was good. Oh, before I forget, I told Red he could let Dembe know we're pregnant. I hope that's all right.”

“Yeah, of course,” said Don. “If there's anybody we can trust to be discreet...”

“That's what I said,” she agreed. Then she sat down on the couch. “We, um, talked about something else, at lunch. Something you should know about.”

“Okay.” He joined her in the living room, sitting across from her.

“I'd been wondering if I was right, to be so sure our kids won't be dragons,” she said, staring down at her clasped hands. “I realized I had to ask Red, to be really sure.”

“And what did he say?”

She looked up. “Well, I learned I have – I once had at least one dragon grandparent. Red's mother.”

“Huh,” said Don. “But you kind of guessed that already, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn't know his father had dragon blood, too. And he said my mother was part-dragon.” She frowned, feeling the bitterness she always felt when she spent any time even thinking about this person who was a total stranger to her. Who had abandoned her, much more entirely than Red ever had.

“Ah. So does that mean you – our kids will be dragons, after all, then?” He sounded curious, interested, and not at all concerned about that possibility.

“The upshot is, Red thought it was definitely possible, but he wasn't totally sure, either.” She shrugged. “He thinks I'll be able to tell some time after our kid is born. He's not sure about when, either, though.”

Don was quiet for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Well, it doesn't sound like it will change all that much about his or her childhood, then. I'm glad you asked, though, so we know to have it in mind.”

“Sorry I was wrong, before,” Liz said.

“Don't worry about it.” He got up, then paused. “Liz, are you all right? I'd say you look like you're thrown off by the chance that our kids could be dragons, but I have to admit I can't see why.”

“No, I'm not. Not if you aren't,” she said. “And I know you aren't, because you weren't before, when you had assumed they would be dragons.”

“That's right,” he said. “And I haven't changed my mind since then. But if that's not what's bothering you, then what else is going on?” He sat back down and looked at her.

“I don't know, exactly,” she said, leaning back against the couch cushions. “I guess I've just been thinking more about family lately. And I know so little about mine. I couldn't make much of a family tree if I had to. We had to do those in school one year, I remember. I filled mine with Sam's relatives, but that was only one branch and I felt like I was lying, even with that.”

Somehow, as she talked, Don had moved so that he was sitting next to her instead of across from her. He rubbed a hand on her back. “Well, Red told you a little bit already, just because you asked. He might tell you more.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I don't want to hurt him, though. I know it was painful for him to tell me even this much.”

“He's an adult. You're not forcing him to do anything against his will,” said Don.

“Obviously,” said Liz, giving him an annoyed look. She sighed. “I don't know. I think I'll need some time before I ask again, anyway. It's hard for me, too.” It was a symptom of how weird her life was – both of their lives, actually – that this was hard for both her and Red, she thought. For most people, genealogies were an interesting pastime, not a minefield. Or at least, it seemed like that's how it should be.

“Sure,” said Don gently. “I just meant, it doesn't seem like this is some big secret Red refuses to tell you. So you have the option of finding out, probably.”

“Yeah,” she said. After so many years, she'd gotten into the habit of avoiding the personal questions with Red except when she absolutely had to. Once, she would have asked straight out, almost any time they occurred to her, but that had been back when their entire relationship was mostly composed of her getting angry at him because he refused to tell her anything. They were closer now. Yet it was almost as if she had stopped asking out of a fear of returning to that point. Which was ridiculous, and counterproductive to actually gaining a deeper relationship with her father. She sighed again. “You're right, Don. Thanks.”

~~~~~~

So far, Liz's pregnancy hadn't come with too many of the unpleasant side-effects Don had heard about. She did have morning sickness, but not every day, and it only really struck in the evenings (just to be perverse, Liz said). She developed an inability to stand the smell or even the sight of parmesan cheese, onions, bananas, and, sometimes, coffee. The latter meant Don simply had to cut it out of his diet, mostly – there just weren't that many times he was out somewhere he could buy some coffee and Liz wasn't with him. But he knew her diet was much more restricted, so he didn't complain.

Other than that, his wife also got tired much faster than he'd known her to. They had done their best to make sure her work schedule would be flexible even before planning on a kid, and that was a very good thing, because she needed a lot of rest.

Most unexpected was the effect pregnancy had on Liz's dreams. Not that it made them more vivid and bizarre – the books they'd been reading predicted that much. No, it was how her telepathy, added to this new facet, somehow meant that Don frequently got to experience the dreams, too, as if they were his.

The first time it happened, his dream about being back at the Post Office suddenly became open sky on a clear day. He was high above the ground, but instead of even a hint of anxiety, he felt more at peace than he had in a while. This was perfect. And then something spoiled it – there was someone on the ground nearby, someone he didn't recognize.

Suddenly, Don became conscious of the fact that this couldn't be his dream, because he – or rather, Liz – was thinking about how she knew this human wasn't Ressler or anyone else who should be on this land. And then he woke up completely, because he knew what day she was dreaming about. But being awake wasn't enough to stop him seeing and feeling when Liz's memory recreated the experience of being shot by a weapon intended to take down the world's largest creatures.

His sleeping wife made a heartrending, agonized sound and then started screaming for him, both out loud and in her mind. He could feel her intense fear and some of the pain, and he sat up, but the strength of it almost immobilized him. Finally, as she continued to whimper and then started to thrash, he did his best to push away the memories and emotions that weren't his. “Liz!” he said loudly. “Liz, wake up! This isn't real. You're safe!”

_Hurry, he's coming!_ she said, as if in response.

“No, Liz, no one's coming,” Don said, even louder than before. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

He wasn't sure if she really heard him. Panting, she reached for the part of her shoulder where the bullet wound had been and moaned. Then the dream began to change, and Liz stopped moving. Now she (and he) saw a wet green field where there was part of some kind of dead animal nearby. The pain Liz felt changed, too. It was slightly less severe, and it was in her other arm.

“Liz. Please, wake up!” said Don, recognizing this as well. “You're not hurt. We're both safe.”

She gasped and sat up, and the dream vanished. “What – where...?”

“You're safe,” he repeated. “We're at home. Both of those times are long gone.”

Blinking, she frowned at him. “Wait. How did you know what I was dreaming about, Ressler?”

He smiled slightly. Even the name she called him showed she was still disoriented. “Because I saw it. Somehow you must have been showing it to me without even meaning to.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Shit. Sorry. That's a hell of thing to make you see.” She was still breathing heavily, though she was obviously calming down.

“It wasn't on purpose, I know,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Except now that I'm awake, I have to go to the bathroom.”

When she got back into bed a few minutes later, she met his eyes with a worried expression. “Don. You're right that I didn't do that just now on purpose. Which means I don't know how it happened, and that means that, unless I figure it out, it will probably happen again.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. The thought had started to occur to him, as well. “Now that I know what's going on, though, I don't think that would be a big deal.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Me just inserting stuff into your head isn't a big deal?”

He scoffed. “There's a big difference between sensations from your dreams and purposeful manipulation, if that's what you're getting at.” Then he took her hand and rubbed his thumb across the back of it. “Besides, you've seen a few of my nightmares over the years, right?” It didn't happen all the time, but he knew of a few specific incidents.

She squeezed his hand, then lay down on her side, facing him. “I guess. But I'm supposed to be able to control my own telepathy stuff pretty automatically.”

“And maybe you'll figure it out,” he told her. “What I'm saying is, don't stress about it, either way.”

But he knew it still bothered her, especially after it happened twice more the next week. The one small good point was that only once was a nightmare. The other time, they both relived a moment from Liz's most recent season – and that led naturally to some activity which was followed by very sound sleep for the rest of the night (although he had been initially thrown off slightly by seeing that memory from her perspective). Still, he had to admit it didn't quite balance out the instance that was a nightmare, which Don saw as a dark, hazy scene in a tiny room. Tom Connolly was sometimes there, although he was sometimes replaced with figures he didn't recognize. He – or rather, Liz – was slumped over and chained against a cold stone wall. And she had given up hope of rescue. She ached all over, she was cold and hungry, and she couldn't even remember how much she might have revealed to her captors about the people she loved. Maybe she didn't deserve to be rescued.

At that, Ressler had struggled awake. “Liz,” he said, sitting up and rubbing a hand across his face. “Liz, wake up, honey, you're dreaming again.” He turned on the bedside table lamp, and his wife closed her eyes tighter but didn't move or otherwise react.

She still ached, and her head ached and felt fuzzy. Tom Connolly was there in that dungeon now, he saw. Without moving his mouth, the man told her that she'd failed to protect anyone – all of his threats were about to come true. Even her child would be killed. The fury and despair that this caused in Liz brought tears to Don's eyes. “Liz! You need to wake up right now. This isn't real. I'm here, and I need you to wake up.” He cleared his throat. “Okay? Can you hear me?”

This time, when the dream vanished, she didn't seem to see him for several seconds. She stared toward him, eyes wide, and then she made a choking sound. A second later, she threw herself out of the bed and ran for the bathroom. Before he could even get up to follow her, he could hear the retching sounds. Taking a shaky breath of his own, he walked toward the adjoining bathroom and then his heart squeezed as he realized that the sounds he had already heard were now interspersed with sobs.

He waited silently until her nausea must have subsided. She was still crying, and hadn't moved from the floor. “Liz. Can I help you get up?”

“Did you see it?” she asked, without looking up. She sniffed.

“I did,” he said. “I'm sorry you had such an awful dream.” Then he took a few steps closer. “But I'm guessing the tiles aren't doing your knees any favors.”

“My knees are fine,” Liz muttered, her breath still hitching. But she did finally take the hand that he had outstretched, and stand slowly. After she'd flushed down the contents of the toilet, washed her hands, and taken a drink of water, she turned back to him. “Can we go back to sharing the fun kind of dream, like a couple of nights ago?” she said, with a weak laugh.

He smiled. “If it was up to me, I would definitely approve.” Then he pulled her into a hug, and smoothed his hands down her back when he felt her shudder.

“There was almost nothing realistic about that dream,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “but I can't shake it. I couldn't even see much of where I was. But Connolly... he said he'd kill our baby.”

“I know,” said Don, stroking her again. “It was just a dream, though. Connolly's dead, and no one's killing our baby.”

Shuddering again, Liz clung tighter to him. _I will kill anyone who tries._

He didn't doubt that for a moment. Clearing his throat, he said, “Anyone who tries will have to go through both of us. And Red, and Dembe, and a lot of other people, actually.”

_Yeah,_ she said, still not letting go of him. But he could feel her taking several deep breaths. _That's true._

“Let's go back to bed, Liz,” he said, after a moment.

“I don't want...” she started to say, then pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. “I don't want to have another nightmare. And I definitely don't want to give it to you, either.”

He wiped off the tears he could still see on her cheeks. “Well, let's see what we can do about that. What if I hold you?”

She nodded, and managed a smile. “Okay. Let's try that.”

To his relief, she fell asleep in his arms with her head on his chest just minutes after they'd gotten back into bed. He, on the other hand, couldn't easily banish the emotions he'd felt from her in the dream. Though it hadn't been clear, as Liz herself had said, he had a feeling that a number of the images that had been visible were from her time in captivity before she had found herself in Thailand. As far as he knew, she had never completely recovered her memory of that time. From this glimpse into it, added to what he had learned from his interrogation, he was glad. She was here now. They were both here. He ran his fingers through a lock of her hair, then closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say in the first chapter - thanks to Namarie for editing.

Though Liz couldn't hunt, Red still took her out to dinner at regular intervals – sometimes with Don, and sometimes only her. One of the latter instances took place not long after she had first felt the baby move. They'd already learned the gender more than a month before, and the idea of her son was becoming more real to Liz. A question had occurred to her recently, and though it might not be easy, she had to ask Red. As she and her husband had agreed, Red wasn't refusing to tell her about her past and his anymore.

“Red,” she said, as they waited for dessert to arrive, “I want to ask you something. It's pretty personal. But I'm also not going to get mad, whatever the answer is. I guess you can tell me as much or as little as you want.” She wasn't going to be apologetic about asking, though. Regular families talked about this kind of thing. Sort of.

Her father raised his eyebrows mildly. “That's quite the introduction, Lizzie. But do ask.”

She took a deep breath. “You never have told me how old you really are, and I don't need to know that. But if you've been alive for that many years... have you really only ever had two children?”

His eyes widened fractionally, and then his expression turned distant. “I suppose it's natural for you to be thinking about this topic,” was what he said first. “You're right that it is very personal, but I won't be hypocritical and pretend it shouldn't be your business, as well.” Now he looked pensive. Their dessert was served. “Eat, Lizzie. Serious conversation doesn't have to mean you go without gelato.”

She gave a wry smile. It was true that she could tell this was going in a more grave direction, which wasn't surprising, but that she also didn't think she could resist eating her treat. “Okay.”

He mirrored her smile for a moment, but then continued, his voice low and somber. “I can tell you with some certainty, although I suppose I can't swear, that you have no living siblings.”

Liz found it difficult to swallow her current mouthful of gelato around the lump in her throat. “Red...”

He sighed, and then continued as if she hadn't spoken. “But you were right to wonder. Had certain events transpired differently, you might have – you should have had three older siblings, at least, of which Jennifer would have been the closest in age to you.”

He'd had two other children? This, she was sure, had not made it into any FBI files on Raymond Reddington. She put down her spoon. Clearing her throat, she managed to get the words out. “And the other two?”

“They would be much older,” he said. “Charles was the eldest, but Karen was only two years younger.”

Liz stared at him, all thoughts of eating forgotten. She could feel the pain in each of his words, though to an outsider it might appear that they were said almost as if he were casually talking about some acquaintances. “What happened?”

“My first marriage was – well, I suppose I wasn't much younger than you were for yours,” Red said. She wondered what he was seeing, his expression far away again. “But I was naïve. I knew I had only a few years before my first transformation, and I thought that was plenty of time to prepare my wife for it.”

“She knew?”

“Not when I married her, no,” said Red, shaking his head. “Which was not fair or even particularly smart, but as I said, I was young.” His gaze sharpened. “If you're done eating, Lizzie, I would prefer to take this conversation somewhere more private.”

She agreed hastily, and after Red had taken care of the check, they left the restaurant. “Are you tired, my dear? I'll take you home if you need to rest.”

“I'm all right,” she said. “Wherever you feel comfortable talking.”

He didn't reply, but told Dembe to take them to his current house. His friend disappeared after the two of them had come in to the sitting room. “Please don't think me boorish, Lizzie, to indulge while you can't, but I'm afraid I need a drink in order to tell this story.”

Liz shifted positions on the couch. “No. I'm the one who asked you for it. I'm not going to try to tell you how.” Her lower back twinged, as it had been doing more and more lately, and the one throw pillow she was leaning against didn't seem to be enough.

“It's your right to know,” Red said. He poured himself a drink and then sat on the other end of the couch. Then, noticing her discomfort, he handed her the pillow from where he was sitting.

“Thanks,” she said, twisting around and setting it behind her. “That's better.”

He nodded. “Good.” Then he stared into his glass for a minute. “My first wife was sweet and earnest, and we loved each other. We had two healthy children in five years of marriage, and I thought everything was perfect. Perhaps it was, for a time.” He drained his glass and set it down. “But then the day came that I started to manifest the symptoms of an impending first transformation. You remember them well, I'm sure – mood swings, incurable restlessness, appetite disruption, headaches.”

It was her turn to nod.

“Unlike you, I was all too aware of what this must mean. So I set aside one evening after the children were in bed to tell my wife what was coming.”

Liz's stomach clenched. That was a conversation she couldn't imagine having with a loved one. Nor could she imagine a young Red with his wife at all, but that was another story.

“Yes,” said Red, having read either her facial expression or her thoughts. “Not only did she not believe me, but she thought I was either playing some kind of cruel joke or that I had gone insane. Of course, I asked her to give me just one week before she made any decision.”

Realizing that her hands were beginning to ache from how tightly she was holding them together, Liz forced herself to relax. “And?”

“And she did, because she still trusted me. That trust lasted until she actually did see me transform,” Red said. “That was when she said humans weren't meant to marry animals. She took the children and left that same day.”

By now Liz had tears in her eyes, although she wiped them away, feeling ridiculous for being the one to break down. “Oh my God, Red.”

He stood and got himself another drink, staring out of the window this time. “And yet that wasn't the worst thing that happened that day for me.” He drew a long, shuddering breath and released it. “I had just started to raid the liquor cabinet in our home when I got a phone call from the police. Our family car was found in a ditch by the side of the road several miles outside of town. One of the local officers was a friend of mine. For the life of me, I can't remember his name.” Red paused, then shook his head. “Strange, that I can see his face so clearly...”

Liz had both hands over her mouth to keep herself from sobbing and thereby making him stop telling the story. It was obvious that he needed to finish it, now.

Still not turning away from the window, Red was silent for several minutes. He cleared his throat, then, and spoke again. “Anyway, my friend drove me out to the scene of the accident, though I imagine that was against regulations. It was obvious as soon as I got there, even to someone as inexperienced as I was, that there was no way anyone could have survived an impact like that.” Her father scoffed. “Seatbelts weren't even widespread in cars yet, although they wouldn't have saved my family, either.”

Finally, he turned around and sat down again, without meeting her eyes. “There was no evidence of foul play of any kind. Maybe she was too distraught to drive, or perhaps some woodland creature darted across the road and caused her to swerve. I carried the guilt with me, regardless.”

Unspoken but clear to Liz was the statement that he still did, to this day. Now she had to sniff unless she wanted to make a mess of herself.

Red looked up at her, at that. His expression softened. “Lizzie, there's no need to cry for me. It was a long time ago.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and gave it to her.

She wiped her eyes and nose before passing it back. “That doesn't make it any less awful.”

“By now the retelling is a little bit less awful,” he told her. Then he finished his drink. “You've never specifically asked when or why I first changed my identity. I did try to continue my life as it had been, for a while, but it was destroyed far too thoroughly. So it was only a few years later that I sought out someone to help me become someone else and start a new life elsewhere. It took longer, however, before I was willing to attempt to start a new family.”

And that attempt had turned out so well, too, Liz thought to herself, with another pang. “I'm sorry.”

“You of all people have no reason to be sorry,” he said, and a tired but genuine smile lit his face. “Now, let's get you back home to Donald before he worries something has gone amiss.” He stood, and offered her his hand.

She took it, and then put her arms around him as soon as she was standing. “Thank you, for telling me.”

He held her tightly for a moment before pulling away gently, though he left one hand on her arm. “The fact that I'm permitted to interact with you, Lizzie, as well as your family, is thanks enough.”

“ _Our_ family,” she said firmly. “And you're not just permitted. You're required.” Her son was not going to grow up without knowing his roots, as she had. And Red already knew that she would find him if he ever tried to disappear, anyway.

He smiled again, and it almost chased away the shadows in his eyes. “Understood.”

~~~~~~

Ressler's very innocent query as to how her evening had been probably didn't produce the response he'd expected. “It was...” Liz started to say, and then she had to trail off. Instead, she came over to him and kissed him, trying without much success to keep herself from crying again.

He noticed as soon as she'd started to move away. “Liz, honey, what's wrong? What happened?”

“Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes quickly. “Nothing happened. I'm just... Tonight I learned that Red has lost his whole family not once, but twice in his life.” She sat down on the couch and brought her legs up under her.

Don's eyes widened, and he sat down next to her. “Twice?” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “So the time we knew about – the time the FBI knew about – that wasn't the first?”

Liz haltingly told him as much as she could bear of the story. “And I've been thinking,” she said when she was done, “that I know what it's like to be betrayed by a spouse. But even Tom never rejected me just for who I am. And for her to take his kids away from him...” Unconsciously, one hand fell to her belly.

Her husband's hand covered hers. “That will never happen.”

“I know,” she said (although she also knew no one could predict the future). She shifted so she could lean against his shoulder. “But I'm glad Red has a family again, now.”

“Me, too,” Don said quietly. He put an arm around her. “Hey, we should get you to bed.”

“What, you don't want me to trap you here at 8:45 in the evening?” Liz asked, her eyes already half-closed.

“Not particularly,” he said calmly, pushing her upright without much force.

~~~~~~

Liz had started to doze on the back porch, in the late afternoon sun. Though their son might or might not end up having enough dragon blood to be able to transform, it seemed pretty clear that, for the moment at least, he was as fond of the heat and sun as she was. Resting out in the sun was a sure-fire way to get him to go to sleep no matter how much he had been moving. And by her sixth month of pregnancy, he seemed to want to move all the time.

So Liz was enjoying some sleep uninterrupted by the sensation of a certain someone kicking her. Suddenly, however, she had the feeling that she wasn't alone. At first, she tried to ignore it – it was possible someone happened to be walking by their property and that was all. And then she felt her husband's alarm from inside the house, and her instincts told her this was no innocent passer by. _Don? What is it?_

Before she could do more than open her eyes and start to sit up, however, there was a loud crack. Gunfire – and that had been close. The baby was kicking more frantically than ever as Liz tried to pinpoint the direction of the shot.

“Liz!” The back door slid open. “Didn't you hear that? We're under attack! Come on, you've got to get inside.”

Don ran out and took her by the arm to pull her up. It required more effort nowadays, and Liz was both embarrassed and irritated that one of her legs was asleep. That meant she sagged against her husband like some kind of useless damsel. She heard him grunt, and then he started to pull her toward the door.

“Stop!” called a voice. There was a man standing just a few yards away, gun raised and pointed at them. “Take another step, either of you, and you'll regret it.”

Liz couldn't believe that because she couldn't even stand up without help, neither of them were in a position to go for their own weapons. Then again, she didn't even have hers on her person. It was probably in their bedroom. _I'm sorry, Don. This is my fault, for slowing everything down. I guess I've been stupid to think we're out of danger here._ And it was only now that the full urgency of this situation was sinking in. Her brain seemed to be moving slower even than the rest of her.

Don didn't reply other than to glance at her. He still had his arm around her, and she knew that it was still necessary to keep her upright. “What do you want?” he shouted at the man.

“We'll get to that,” the man said, with a grim smile. He took several more steps closer, then raised his eyebrows. “Looks like you two really did think you get a brand new start. Cute. Too bad that's not going to last.” As he spoke, a handful of other armed men stepped into view, each aiming for her and Don.

Liz finally remembered to try to find Red. He wasn't close, but he felt her reaching out. _We need help,_ she thought, and hoped he would get the gist. This was very, very bad. How had this happened?

“If both of you come along, nice and easy, you won't get hurt. Not yet, anyway,” the first man, clearly in charge, said, his dark smile widening.

“Come where?” said Liz.

“To have a chat with my boss. You've never met in person, but he knows a lot about you. Both of you, in fact,” said the man. “He was fascinated to hear about your father a few years back, too, but by that time you'd all vanished.”

Whoever this was, that made it even clearer that it wasn't someone Liz wanted any of them to meet. It came over her like an abruptly breaking wave what was necessary here: since they were outnumbered and outgunned, somehow, they needed to convince this man and his associates that they weren't worth the trouble. And there was only one way she could think of to accomplish this. “We're not going anywhere, and you're not going to make us,” she said, adding in the resonance of her dragon energy. The guy wasn't all that close, but she could still look into his eyes.

He blinked, and she felt resistance that signaled the possibility of dragon blood. “What – what are you doing?” For a moment, his grip on his weapon faltered, and then he shook his head and raised the gun again. “Don't do anything stupid. My boss doesn't want you dead right now, but that's our backup plan.”

Liz clenched her jaw and reminded herself that Red would be able to do this. Hell, she'd watched him hypnotize a man with some dragon blood silently, while being menaced by a half dozen armed guards. Moreover, she'd learned it could even be done to an actual dragon. She took a deep breath and summoned her strength, reaching for more than she usually dared. She needed the rest of this process to be silent, if the other men were going to go with it. _I told you we're not coming with you, and that you won't make us do it. You won't let your men harm us or continue to threaten us, either._ She let Ressler hear what she said, so that he knew what was going on.

To her relief, she felt the man's natural mental shield give, and saw the blankness that meant she had gotten through to him. “We're done here,” he said tonelessly, and holstered his gun.

“Ashland, man, what are you doing?” said one of the others. “We've got our orders.”

Liz maintained her grip on the process. Dimly, she noticed that feeling had returned to her leg. That was good. _Make them leave us alone. Come up with a good reason. Maybe your boss just texted you, or whatever will work._

Ashland turned to the other man, pulling out his phone and gesturing with it. “Change of plans. The Major says a new priority just came up.”

Two of the three remaining men shrugged, grumbled, and holstered their weapons. But the third, who had been the one to object just now, said, “Then aren't we going to kill these two first?”

Ashland winced faintly at Liz's silent pressure, and then spoke sharply. “I said we're done, Clark. Let's move out.”

Clark shook his head. “This doesn't make sense. I think – I think the woman's doing something. She's doing this somehow.” He pointed his gun at Liz again.

“How could she be doing this?” Don said, his voice laden with scorn. “Feminine wiles?” One of the other men snickered.

Liz let up on Ashland just a bit and spoke directly to Clark. _Yeah, Clark, that's right. You're crazy._

Clark gasped and looked around. “Did you just – she just talked to me, without moving her mouth!”

“Clark, you need help, dude,” someone else muttered.

_I can stand now, Don,_ Liz told her husband privately, still fixing her eyes on Ashland. _You don't have to hold me up._

She felt his acknowledgement, and he released her slowly. She couldn't watch what he was doing, but she was pretty sure he was reaching, even slower, for the gun at his holster.

“Clark. We're leaving now,” Ashland snapped. “We don't have time for your freak-out. The Major's waiting.”

_You won't remember why you ordered your team to leave,_ said Liz, still with that force. Her head was beginning to ache. The process took a lot more concentration, this way.

Liz didn't let up, forcing the leader to wait for his men to precede him. Then she said, _Remember, you're all leaving us alone now._ Ashland nodded slightly, and then turned and left.

Liz realized just as suddenly as it had come over her what to do that her legs felt numb again, but not in the same way as before. And she felt curiously detached from everything. How had she not noticed how badly her head hurt? “Are they gone?” she mumbled, and was vaguely aware that her voice was not clear. And then Don said something, first calmly, and then sharply, but she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears.

The last thing she thought she heard – and wasn't that a bizarre thing to hear at a moment like this? Or was it? - was the loud crack of another gunshot. Then the world went black.

~~~~~~

_Lizzie! Lizzie, are you all right?_ His voice sounded worried. That wasn't right.

She tried to respond in the same way her father had spoken to her, but all she accomplished was an immediate agonizing reminder than her head hurt. A lot. She moaned, and only dimly realized that the sound was coming from her.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” said Red, out loud this time. “I know your head hurts. I won't use my telepathy with you, and I suggest you don't try to use yours, either.”

It was hard to focus on what he said. The implication didn't seem to quite sink in, although she did realize she shouldn't speak telepathically. Someone stroked her cheek and then she remembered. The gunshot! She gasped. “Red, the gun, someone – Where's Don?”

“I'm here,” her husband's voice said quickly. “I'm fine, I fired the gun. I'm not hurt.”

She sighed. “Good.” But her head still throbbed. It was bad enough that she was starting to feel nauseated, too. “My head...”

“I would guess that you're having a migraine, Lizzie,” said Red gently. He paused for a moment, then said, “We'll get you an ice pack. You just lie still.”

“Not going to be doing anything else,” she muttered. She still thought she was probably not getting everything that was happening, but that, she knew. When the ice pack came, she asked for it to be put under her head. Lying on the frozen plastic wasn't comfortable, but the cold was. It dulled the pain so that it was almost bearable. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She still hadn't opened her eyes, and something told her it would be a bad idea to try. It was much easier to drift into a state of semi-consciousness, where she knew Red and Don were nearby and talking to each other, but it didn't seem to matter what they were saying.

At one point, she even heard Don ask her father if she was asleep. She didn't hear the response, but nothing was directed to her afterward. That was good. She could just rest. Everyone was fine now. Her head still hurt, but she didn't have to notice if she wasn't awake.

Some time later she heard their voices again. “She won't want to,” said Don. “I bet she'll hate the whole idea.”

“Nevertheless, I fear it may be the best idea,” said Red.

Liz didn't think too hard about what they might be discussing. The first item of business was how her head was doing. She didn't notice anything cold behind her head anymore. And that was... that was okay. Good. Though she still felt a bit detached and weird, the pain seemed to be gone. “What's the best idea?” she said, and opened her eyes. Her first instinct was to squint, even though part of her was aware the light in their living room was not actually that bright.

“Liz? How are you feeling?” Don was at her side a second later.

She frowned. “The light seems too bright.”

“Of course,” she heard Red say, from behind the couch where she couldn't see him, and then the overhead light was switched off. The kitchen light, farther away from where she was, came on. “Is that better, Lizzie?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” she said.

“But is your head feeling better?” Don wanted to know.

“It is,” she said. “I feel kind of... like I was hit by a truck, but there's no pain anymore.” Her words were still a little unclear, she noticed.

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. The last part, that is,” he said.

“How long was I asleep?” She thought about sitting up, but that seemed like too much effort.

“You passed out for maybe fifteen minutes before Red got here,” said Don. “And then after we brought you inside and you'd woken up for a little bit? You've been asleep for...” he glanced at his watch. “Looks like about three hours since then.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He took her hand gently. “You didn't even notice when I took the ice pack away after it started to melt.”

“If it's been that long, that would explain why I'm hungry,” she said, and used his hand to help pull herself up. For a moment, the world spun and she thought she might slump back over. But everything righted itself quickly.

He smiled. “Now I know you're going to be okay. What do you want to eat?”

Her stomach growled. “Whatever's fastest, and has meat in it.”

“While Donald finds that for you, Lizzie, you and I should talk about what happened this afternoon,” said her father, coming around in front of the couch and sitting on the chair opposite her.

Liz pressed her lips together. “Yeah, I guess. I feel like an idiot for moving so slowly when everything hit the fan.”

Red raised his eyebrows. “That's not how Donald told it. He mentioned you were off balance when you stood up, yes, but then to hear him tell it you managed the situation very well, especially considering that the two of you were outnumbered. You even determined how to use your hypnosis without speaking, which isn't easy – and learning to do it can have some side-effects, as you now know.”

She winced, and nodded. “Wait, if I managed the situation, what was that gunshot I heard?”

“Clark, that guy who actually guessed you were doing something?” Don said, coming back into the sitting room. “He turned around at the last second. I could tell you were already about to pass out, but I had to shoot him before I caught you.”

Liz blinked. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” The microwaved beeped, and Don smiled and went to retrieve her food.

“That brings me to what I was saying when you woke up, a minute ago,” Red said. “Donald informed me that the man in charge of the unit that attacked referenced someone called 'the Major'.”

“Right,” said Liz.

“That name is familiar to me,” said Red, nodding. “And so, while you were asleep for a few hours, I took the opportunity to make a few calls. By now I have confirmed that the man who originally sold me Tom Keen's services is in town.”

“What?” Liz stared. Her husband came back with a plate of reheated spaghetti (special-ordered without onions, and no cheese) and handed it to her, and she took it and started to eat almost automatically. “But why would this guy want to attack us?” she wondered, swallowing.

“I have theories, but nothing solid as of yet,” said Red. “Which is part of the reason why I was telling Donald that I feel that the best course of action would be for you and him to move into a safe house until this is resolved.”

Liz put her plate and fork down on her lap. “No. Absolutely not. I'm not running again. This is our home. This is where we're going to raise our baby.” Their son kicked at that moment, as if in emphasis.

“Lizzie, I have no intention of recommending that you flee again,” Red said firmly. “You deserve the life that you want. This would be temporary.”

She frowned, but started eating again as she pondered this. “I can't just stop going to work, and neither can Don.”

“Perhaps not, but it is Saturday. The number of days of work you have to miss should be low,” said Red.

“Should be,” Liz repeated skeptically. She speared a meatball and ate it, trying to look at the issue as rationally as possible. “But you really think we won't be safe if we don't do this.”

Red didn't answer immediately. “What I think is that the Major knows where you live, and has successfully invaded your property already. Of course we can and already have increased your security, but this house is meant for living, not for enduring a siege.”

Liz sighed. That was true. And that was what she wanted this house to be about – their second chance, that this Major's man had already scoffed at. “Don, what do you think?”

“I want you and the baby to be safe,” he said. “I don't want us to be on the run again, either, but I think we have to do what we have to do.”

“Okay,” she said, with another sigh. “Let's do it. But I want to send a message to Harold Cooper and Whitney Lam first, just so they know I have no intention of disappearing for very long at all. I'm not fleeing.”

Red nodded. “Then I suggest you pack, both of you, for a few days, send that message, and be ready to move in an hour. Does that give you enough time?”

“Yeah, it should.” She looked at him. “When we all have a moment, Red, I want to talk to you about the kind of hypnosis I did today.”

“Of course,” he said, standing and offering her his hand.

An hour later, Red was escorting her into a nondescript panel van. She didn't know where they were headed, exactly, and she hadn't asked. “Be safe, Lizzie. You, too, Donald.”

“Wait, you're not coming with us?” Liz sat up from where she had leaned back against her seat. Probably, she should have realized that sooner.

“I'm going to have a chat with the Major,” said Red. “And you're going to stay safe.”

She wanted to argue, but her head still felt strange, like it was packed full of cotton. She knew she wasn't up for confronting anyone. As if to punctuate the point, the baby kicked – or possibly punched, she supposed – one of her ribs hard enough to make her wince. “Ouch.”

“What is it?” He frowned.

“Nothing. The baby's just doing some percussion on me,” she said, rubbing a hand over the spot.

Red's expression softened. “He doesn't like to keep still, does he? Like his mother.”

She smiled, keeping her hand resting on her stomach. “I guess so.” Then she met her father's eyes firmly and seriously. “Red, you stay safe, too. And keep us posted.”

“I intend to,” he said, then closed the door, and the van pulled away.

Ressler put his hands on her and raised his eyebrows. “He really is moving around in there, isn't he?”

“Maybe he'll wear himself out before I go to bed, for once,” she said, and winced again. “As long as he doesn't manage to knock me out, first.”

Huffing out a laugh, Don moved one of his hands so he could put his arm around her. “I sure hope that's not literally possible.”

She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the life growing inside her instead of imagining everything that could go wrong with this. “Honey, we're doing the right thing, aren't we?”

He turned to kiss her cheek. “I think we're making the only choice that makes sense.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. But Red's right that I'm not going to be able to just sit around hiding in a safe house for very long.”

“I know,” said Don. “Let's hope this is over quickly. And if it isn't, we'll figure out a way to get involved in the process.”


	3. Chapter 3

By the time twenty-four hours had passed in the safe house, and it had been six hours since they had last heard from Red, Liz was wishing that she could literally climb the walls. She pulled her phone from her pocket for the third time in two minutes to make sure she hadn't missed a call or text. “I think I'm going to call Dembe again,” she said.

“Liz, what are four messages going to do that three weren't already doing?” Don asked. “Can you sit? Please. You're making me tired. And I have to think you're already tired.”

She glared at him. By now it was past eight thirty, and he was right that she had recently already been in bed at this point. “If you'll remember, sitting is just what I told you I wouldn't be doing,” she snapped, putting her phone back in her pocket and turning to pace the length of the room again.

She could hear the irritation in his voice. “Fine. But I just think it's still early for fearing the worst. Mr. Kaplan said not to worry, right?”

“That was two hours ago,” Liz said, twisting her hands together. The woman had also told them she would call if she had any updates, which was the only reason Liz hadn't called her again yet.

“Liz. I know you don't want to hear this, but it's not good for you or the baby for you to be this stressed,” Don said, approaching until he could hold both of her hands loosely in his.

She twisted away from him, furious. “You don't think I know that?” She clenched her hands into fists and tried to breathe. “It's been almost twenty-six weeks since I've been able to really, fully relax. That's the longest I've had to go without transforming since I found out I'm a dragon. And it's for the best possible reason, and normally I don't even mind, but –” She blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “It's always worse when I feel trapped. And this time there's nothing I can do about it, except be stressed and then feel bad about being stressed, which doesn't help at all.”

Don reached for her again, and she backed up before she could stop herself. He dropped his arms to his sides, looking hurt. “Sorry,” she said. “It's not you. I just... I feel like I'm moments away from literally jumping out of my skin and I can't do that, I can't...” She trailed off and ran a hand through her hair, focusing on breathing as slowly and deeply as she could. Her control still felt like it was slipping, though, and her noticing that fact was feeding into a loop of increasing anxiety which then led to less control. The fact that the baby was clearly as agitated as his mother, kicking and moving as much as ever, didn't help. She was starting to feel light headed, and part of her wondered what else could happen to make this worse.

“Liz.” Don's face was pale, now, and for a moment he looked scared. But then he seemed to decide something, and he straightened and met her eyes. “Okay, let's try talking this through. Tell me what you're worried about.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and pondered the question. It was a good idea. It was something she should have suggested, herself. She wasn't above blaming hormones for not having thought of it. “I'm worried about the safety of my family. We were supposed to be done with this kind of thing. I know there's never going to be any guarantee for us, but I wanted to at least be in a position to fight back, personally, when the inevitable attack came.”

“But you did fight back,” Don pointed out. “I wish we hadn't had to, but we worked together pretty well to neutralize the threat yesterday.”

She blew out a shaky breath and gave him a half smile. “Yeah.” Then she closed her eyes again for a few seconds. “But now we're hiding. If I wasn't pregnant, we could all be out there tracking this Major guy down. Instead, it's just Red and his people.”

“You know Red can take care of himself,” Don said.

“Usually,” she said. “Not always.” If this situation became one of the exceptions that proved the rule, she wasn't sure how well she could handle that. And that wasn't the only reason she felt tense about him being out there while they were here.

“Yeah, he's not invincible because no one is.” Don stepped closer to her, and this time she didn't feel crowded. He didn't touch her, though. “I don't like this waiting around, either. Maybe we can spend some time making sure we aren't in this same position, if this happens again.”

“Probably when, not if,” Liz said. But she followed him back to the kitchen table and sat down across from him.

“All the more reason.”

Liz leaned on the table with her head in her hands. “Did the police ever even show up this time? I don't remember hearing anything about that before we came here.” She knew the captain of their local precinct was aware of who she and Don were, but had no idea what the man thought of them living in his jurisdiction.

Her husband's eyes widened. “I don't know. And I can't believe that didn't occur to me. Some former cop I am. At least you have the excuse of having been unconscious for the immediate fallout and most of the aftermath.” He frowned. “I guess we'll have to ask Reddington what he knows. If the police didn't come at all, maybe you and I can visit the station when this is over, just to see what we can find out.”

“Yeah,” said Liz. She didn't relish that possible meeting. Her distrust of police, well-earned over the course of several years as a fugitive (and experience with the Cabal before that), probably wasn't going to fade anytime soon.

“Do you need anything to eat?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you just bringing up a bunch of things to see if they distract me?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, maybe if you were a preschooler. I thought you might be hungry, that's all. And we can keep talking while you eat, if you need to.”

She rubbed a hand across her face. “I could eat.”

Thankfully, he kept his smirk to a minimum. “What do you want?”

“I'm going to say this, even though it's the most stereotypical answer a pregnant woman could give – and you're going to keep quiet.” She glared and pointed a finger at him until he nodded. “Ice cream.”

Don didn't say a word, although the smirk was still there. He stood up and went to the freezer. “What kind? We have mint chocolate chip, and rocky road.”

“Rocky road,” she said. “Thank you.”

He brought her a bowl a minute later, and she dug in with an appreciative hum. “Okay,” she said, after a minute, “what else can we do?”

They discussed a few more security questions, but now that Liz had stopped pacing, everything was catching up with her. Once her ice cream was done, they'd only settled a few things. Still, Liz decided it was progress. And she felt less helpless. “I'm going to bed,” she announced. Then she thought for a moment. “If Red calls... Well, I guess wake me up if there's bad news. I don't want to be the last to know something like that.” She refused to think too much about that possibility. “Otherwise, I'd rather just sleep.”

“Sounds good,” said Don. He helped her stand, and then walked with her to the bedroom. “You need anything else, sweetheart?”

“No, but thank you,” she said, and kissed him lightly. “Thanks for talking me down a while ago, too.”

“You're welcome,” he told her, and gave her a kiss in return. “Sleep well.”

When she woke up several hours later to use the bathroom, Don was asleep next to her. She wondered if he'd had any news. But she wasn't about to wake him, either. Out of curiosity, before she got back under the covers, however, Liz reached for Red's mind and found him not far away. He was asleep. That meant he was fine, though, and she fell back asleep easily with that knowledge.

~~~~~~

She woke up to the smell of something cooking down the hall. Her stomach growled immediately, and she sat up. _Ressler?_ He let her know that everything was fine, and that they were alone in the house.

“Morning,” she told him as she came into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her. “I guess you slept well.”

“I did,” she agreed, sitting down at the table. It looked like he was making eggs. “Did you hear from Red?”

“Yeah. He's fine. He called about a half hour after you went to bed.” Don turned the heat off the stove and brought the pan over to the table. “He apologized for not getting back to us earlier.”

Liz nodded, and yawned. “Any particular reason he didn't?” She took the plate her husband offered, and served herself some scrambled eggs.

“All he told me on the phone was that the conversation with the Major took longer than he expected.” Don served himself some food as well, and sat down across from her.

She raised her eyebrows. “Uh huh. Did he say he was coming over, then?”

“He didn't say that in so many words, but I think he is.”

The upshot of Red's visit was that he assured them they would be in no more danger from the Major. He also discussed security with them, and agreed that speaking to the local police might be strategic. “It's my understanding that they didn't send anyone to your property until you had already left for the safe house.” He left it to them to speculate as to why.

“Why did the Major go after us?” Liz asked, when Red still hadn't told them. “Tom isn't going to turn up next, is he?” The idea made her want to grind her teeth.

Red shook his head. “For once, your ex-husband is only barely involved in this story. He and I are the path through which the Major knows of your existence, of course. After firing Tom, I've taken to judiciously spreading the news that the Major's assets aren't as reliable as he claims. Since the Major's business is based entirely on word-of-mouth, he hasn't been very pleased with me. Personally, I think if he weren't also angry with himself and Tom for how spectacularly that particular operation went downhill, he might have been able to get over it sooner.”

Liz pressed her lips together. The bitter responses that came to mind at hearing that part of her life being referred to as an operation that went downhill were numerous enough that it was difficult to bite them all back. She crossed her arms and said, “So was coming after us supposed to be revenge on you, or me? I mean, I guess it's my fault Tom spoiled that particular operation.” The irony in the last sentence was vicious enough that part of her was surprised to still have that much anger over something so long dead.

Red gave her a look that was hard to read. “I believe he does blame you, in part, as absurd and unacceptable as that is. But once I persuaded him that he is still in my debt for allowing Tom to switch allegiances, rather than me owing him anything, we came to an agreement.”

“So we can go back home?” Liz asked, deciding that she would trust Red to tell her if any more of his interaction with the Major was relevant.

 _You're feeling all right? No lingering effects from the overuse of your telepathy?_ he asked her privately.

 _I haven't noticed anything,_ she said.

 _I have time today to offer a few suggestions on how to use the skill you employed without putting as much strain on yourself, if you'd like,_ he said. _And if you do wish to practice today, the side benefit would be that you could be directly involved in resolving the issue of the Major once and for all._

“All right, do you want me to let you two talk alone, or what?” Don said, glancing between the two of them.

“Sorry,” said Liz, blinking. “I kind of forgot we weren't speaking out loud.”

Ressler wasn't very excited by the idea of Liz trying hypnosis without speaking again, much less doing it to the Major himself, which was Red's idea. Red pointed out, “The agreement we reached is one thing, but the Major has already proven himself unreliable. We need to be certain he won't bother us again.”

“And I do want to make sure I can do this without hurting myself,” said Liz.

Don scoffed and shook his head. “Don't try to make it like I'm arguing against you learning a skill, Liz. You know that's not my issue with this.”

“Why don't you come along?” Red said. “It's admirable of you to be concerned, but the chances of danger to her are minimal.”

Sighing, Don met her eyes. “You really want to do this? After it knocked you out two days ago?”

“I definitely don't want to be knocked out again,” she told him. “If I start feeling that way again, I'll stop.”

“All right. But I am coming. And if I see you starting to look like you looked before, I'm going to take you out of the room,” he said.

Liz raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, we'll see about that.”

On the way to where Red's people were holding the Major, Red told her that the key to using this skill was a focused use of energy, rather than necessarily a larger quantity of it. _Think of it like a very sharp dagger as opposed to a large sword,_ he said.

Liz snorted. _I don't make a habit of wielding either one, but I do see the analogy._

 _Good._ Red paused. _The Major doesn't know anything about dragons, despite the relatively high number of his clients who fit that description. I also don't want him to be missing for too long. So if we can do this cleanly and quickly, that would be best._

The man sitting in a metal folding chair was the only occupant of the garage they pulled into, besides a few guards Liz recognized. He was tied securely to the chair, but not gagged. His eyes widened as the three of them and Dembe came in. “What's this, Reddington? I thought your little family was supposed to be out of this life.”

“We are supposed to be,” said Liz. “And yet you seemed eager to drag us in, just a couple of days ago.”

“You're Elizabeth, obviously,” said the man, looking her over. He laughed. “I used to know someone who would be very disappointed – heartbroken, even – to see that you're pregnant with someone else's child.” Then his eyes narrowed. “At least, I thought I knew him. I remember wondering whether I'd understand his obsession with you if I saw you in person, but I can't say I get it. Maybe I'd have to... hmm, go as deep as he did.”

“You can't possibly fathom how much I don't give a damn about your dashed hopes with Tom,” snapped Liz, feeling Don's fury behind her own. “I'm not here to make your acquaintance.” _Tell us any other plans you might have involving anyone in my family, or anyone who works with us,_ she said, before the Major could respond. She did her best to focus the way Red had suggested.

Their captive's face went blank. “I would look for another opportunity. I'd wait until I thought it had been long enough, and then I'd make my move.”

 _Red, do you need details, or should I just go for the wipe?_ Liz asked privately, still staring into the man's eyes.

 _Just an overview is plenty,_ Red replied.

 _What kind of move?_ Liz demanded from the man.

“In a year or so, kidnapping seems like a viable option,” said the Major.

Though he spoke in a nearly toneless voice, Liz felt ice fill her veins. Without breaking eye contact with her prey, she grabbed her husband's arm, hard. Suddenly, she had two simultaneous realizations: The first was that if she chose, though it would take more effort than she had ever used in any hypnosis previously, that she could order this man to die and he would still obey. The second was that she really wanted to do it.

 _Lizzie,_ Red said, _quite apart from the fact that this would be the second time in your life that you've killed an unarmed, restrained man, the effort required to kill in this manner is a great deal more than you can handle without hurting yourself._ He didn't move to break her eye contact, nor did he (as far as Liz could tell) show any outward sign at all of what he was saying.

Her left hand, the one that wasn't clutching Don's arm, Liz realized, was clenched so tightly into a fist that her nails had cut into her skin. She drew a breath with difficulty, then spoke to the Major again. _You're going to forget that plan. You'll remember that Reddington captured you after your failed attempt to go after me and my husband, and you'll remember and keep the agreement you made with him._ She could have ended it there, but she was beyond enraged. _And you'll remember that the next time I so much as see you, I'll kill you. And if I find any of your operatives trying to come for me or my family, I'll hunt you down and kill you after I kill them. Other than that, you can feel free not to remember any part of this interaction except that we've met._

“Liz,” Don said quietly, “are you okay? Because you don't seem okay.”

 _I think you've proven your point, in every way,_ Red added. There was no hint of criticism in his tone.

Liz took another painful breath, then blinked and turned away. Her head hurt just faintly, but it was the adrenaline release that was having the most effect. It wouldn't take much to make her start trembling, she knew.

Although Red had a few words with the guards as they left, she didn't hear any of them. And no one spoke again until they had reached the car. Then Don said, “I know I'm repeating myself, but are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said, then sighed. Her voice wasn't shaking, but it was a near thing. “Physically, anyway. I think I am getting a headache, but it's too faint for me to even want Tylenol or anything.”

“Okay,” said Don. He opened the door for her, but then held her gaze. “And we're going to talk about whatever way you're not fine, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, and clasped her hands together. That reminded her that she had scratched her left palm. At least it wasn't bleeding. Since she wasn't even sure how to feel about what could have happened in there, she had no idea what to expect of her husband's reaction when she did tell him.

“I'll take my leave for the moment,” Red said. “Lizzie...” _I believe you accomplished what was necessary. And even if I had any judgement to pass on what you almost did – which I do not – that would be the height of hypocrisy for me. Don't be too hard on yourself._ He touched her cheek gently, and then turned and went back toward the garage.

On the way back, Don sighed and then broke the silence first, again. “So I saw you were able to hypnotize him. I'm guessing you passed on the right message?”

Liz would have laughed if she'd been able to find anything funny about that confrontation. “Yeah. He won't be bothering us again. And he knows what will happen if he does.”

“Good,” said Don, voice dark. “Because if you hadn't stopped me back there, I don't know what I would have done to him. I don't think I could hold back, the next time.”

Liz turned to stare at him. “If I hadn't stopped you?”

“Yeah,” he said. When he saw the confusion on her face, he pointed to his left arm. “You grabbed me, kept me from knocking him over and beating the hell out of him for threatening our unborn kid. Remember?”

Now she did make a sound like a laugh, and put her head in her hands. “Oh my God. Don, I grabbed you to keep _myself_ from doing something stupid.”

His eyes widened. “Oh.”

“And I here I was, wondering how to tell you that I almost killed the Major right then and there,” she said. “If Red hadn't told me it would hurt me, I – I think I would have ordered him to die.”

“Shit,” he breathed, eyes even wider. “You can do that?”

“Apparently,” she said. She shuddered. “I don't think I want to try, though. Even if it wouldn't hurt me.” Imagining how it would feel to be in someone's head while they died – because she had made them die – was... Even though she could still easily recall the cold rage that had filled her at the thought of the man targeting her son, the nausea that she was now fighting at the possibility of such an ugly and personal kill made her glad she hadn't gone any farther.

Don didn't speak for a moment. Then he rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, obviously I get feeling protective. But I hope you know what I mean when I say I'm glad you don't want to do that.”

“Yeah,” she said weakly. Then she shook her head. “I did this whole thing today to learn more about kinds of hypnosis that I hadn't tried before, but I think I could have done without knowing that last part.”

There was another pause, and her husband put his hand on her arm. “Red wasn't surprised, though, was he?”

“No,” she said. “I guess he must have done it before, too, to know how it would affect me.” The idea didn't shock her, although she had to assume it was a rare and last resort. At that moment, though he had been fairly calm throughout this whole experience, the baby started to kick and move around. It didn't help her stomach feel settled.

“Liz, you do know that I'm not shocked that you're willing to fight for our son, even before he's born, right?” Don said gently, a few minutes later. “I knew you would be. I love that you are.” He smoothed his hand down her arm.

She faced him and summoned a small smile. “Well, if I hadn't had to focus so much on the Major, I would have realized you wanted to go after him, too.”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Just in case you needed the reminder that I'm available to rough up the bad guys, even if I can't do it with my mind, like some people.”

She snorted, but understood the thinly veiled reminder that protecting their family wasn't just her job, no matter what kind of instinctive response she might have. “Got it.”

When they got back home, Don suggested a late lunch. Liz knew she should be hungry – usually, she would have been starving – but the idea was not appealing. “I'm feeling kind of sick to my stomach, actually,” she admitted. “I think I'm going to take a nap and hope it goes away.”

“Do you need anything before you lie down? You don't want some juice or some toast?” She could feel his concern as he offered her a few things that she'd had success with during morning sickness.

Liz shook her head, her stomach roiling at the thought. “No, thanks.”

“Okay. But let me know if you think of anything you want.”

She couldn't sleep, though, despite being tired. She couldn't get the baby to quiet, which probably had more to do with her continuously whirling thoughts than any unusual level of activity on his part. After all this time, she'd dared to think she might have already encountered basically every aspect about being a dragon (other than the long lifespan, the potential impact of which she refused to think about). But today had proven otherwise.

Liz rubbed a hand over her belly and sighed. “It's a good thing you don't know what a normal life is,” she whispered to her son, “because there's no way you're going to have one.”


	4. Chapter 4

By Liz's eighth month of pregnancy, two thoughts reoccurred to her frequently: one was that she felt huge (which she knew didn't make a lot of sense considering just how much bigger she'd been in her life), and awkward, and uncomfortable in her own skin. The second was that she and Don needed to finalize the baby's first name.

“So you're sure you don't have any family names that you want to pass down? We already agreed on mine,” Liz said, one evening after dinner.

“No, that's not a big tradition in my family,” said Ressler. “Or if it is, my parents didn't talk about it much.”

“Okay,” she said, then pretended to sigh dramatically. “That's not helpful in this case, though.”

He smiled. “I know.” Then he leaned his chin on one hand, resting his elbow on the table. “So. We both prefer more traditional names to the newer, trendy ones. We should make lists of the ones we like, and see where they overlap.”

“Sure. But can you get me one of the name books? My brain is just not coming up with lots of ideas right now,” said Liz.

He rose and pulled two off them off their shelf, and handed her one. She leaned over slightly to reach, and then grunted, putting a hand to her middle. “Liz, are you okay?” Don quickly put the book down on the table and came around to her side.

She looked up. “Yeah,” she told him, voice strained. “Just Braxton-Hicks, I think. But I want to walk around, see if that stops it.”

He held out a hand for her and she got up, still feeling the tension in her abdominal muscles. After just a few minutes, though, it faded. Sighing, she sat back down, breathing much more heavily than the effort of such a short walk would normally require. “You know,” she said, once she felt recovered, “I'll be glad when this kid's not competing with my lungs for space in my body.”

Don winced. Then he came over behind her chair and reached gently down to rub her lower back. She all but melted under his touch. “That won't be the only reason you'll be glad when our kid's finally here, though, will it?”

She hummed in pleasure as he kept up the massage, leaning forward as much as she could and closing her eyes. “No, definitely not. I could list a whole bunch of them.”

“And we're almost there,” he reminded her.

Opening her eyes, she pulled one of the books of baby names over to her. “Which is why we have to have a name for him.”

“Right,” said Don, moving his hands up to squeeze her shoulders, and then finding a piece of paper and pencil for each of them before returning to his seat. They sat in silence for several minutes, flipping pages and scribbling down ideas. Then he spoke again. “I don't know about you, but I have ten names and I think that's a good start.”

“I only have nine,” she said, “but let's talk about them, anyway.” They swapped lists. A few, after discussing possible nicknames and how they fit with the middle and last name, were discarded relatively quickly. The ones that remained, they both said they liked. Then something occurred to Liz, and she gasped. “Wait. We both liked 'Charles'.”

“Yeah,” said Don, nodding. “And, actually, that's my dad's middle name. Why? That isn't the only one we both liked.”

“No. I'm glad to hear that about your dad. It's also the name of – of the little boy who would have been my oldest brother, if he'd lived,” said Liz quietly. “I just remembered.”

Her husband raised his eyebrows. Then he looked thoughtful. “Charles Samuel has a nice sound to it.”

She smiled. “Yeah. And the nicknames are decent, although I wouldn't want to call him 'Chuck'. 'Charlie' is cute, though.”

“The meaning is 'free man',” Don pointed out, after glancing at his book again. “Which is totally fine.”

“Yeah, that works,” said Liz. “Does that work for you?”

“I think it does. So, did we do it? Have we picked a name?”

Liz mulled it over for a second. “Let's say we'll go with it unless we think of some reason not to.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed. Then he stood and went over to her again, this time kissing her on the forehead. “Do you think Red would want to hear about it before we settle on that name?”

“He might,” Liz said. “I'll tell him the next time we see him. Thanks.” She was touched that Don had thought of that before she had.

~~~~~~~

Liz noticed as her due date approached that Red hadn't visited recently, though he still called regularly. When she asked where he was, or simply pointed out that she could tell he hadn't been close, he was evasive. Finally, early one evening, when he'd called and Liz had noticed that she couldn't sense him telepathically, she'd had it. “Red. I could go into labor with to your grandson literally any minute! I don't think you've suddenly decided that you're not interested. So what are you doing? Why are you too far away for me to even find you telepathically?”

There was a pause on the end of the line, and then she heard him take a breath. “I'm not avoiding you, Lizzie. I realize it may feel like that, and I apologize.”

“I appreciate the apology, but I need you to tell me what you're doing.” She glanced up when her husband came into the room, looking concerned. He could probably tell she was close to yelling.

“Keeping you safe is more important now than ever,” he replied. “And that is what I'm doing.”

She frowned. “What part of keeping me safe involves you being wherever you are, so many miles away? What enemies do I not know about?” Don sat down across from her in the living room, mirroring her frown.

“I know it will bother you if I say this, but I don't want you to have to worry about this right now,” Red said, with a sigh. “I'm following up on some intel I've been hearing for the past two weeks or so. It may not be especially serious. And I haven't told you, not because I have any delusion that you can't handle it, but because you're focused on the imminent arrival of your son. And if I can help keep anything else from intruding, that's what I have done and will do.”

Liz closed her eyes for a second and rubbed her free hand over her face. “You have to do this personally?” She was aware that it wouldn't take much for her voice to sound small and pleading.

“For the time being, yes,” he said, his voice soft. “But I can leave some of it for others to wrap up.”

“Good,” she said, blinking back tears that were totally unnecessary. She waited until her voice was firmer before adding, “Because I don't want to have to wait to introduce you to my son.”

“I don't want that, either,” said Red, and his voice sounded close to breaking, too. “I can promise you that I will be back as soon as everything that I have to take care of is done.”

“Okay,” she said, sniffing.

“Lizzie, is Donald there with you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, he's right here. Why?”

“May I speak with him for a moment?”

“Uh. Yeah, hold on a second,” she said. Then she handed Don the phone. “He said he wants to talk to you.”

Don looked just as puzzled, but he took the phone. His tone was uncertain as he asked, “What is it?”

Liz didn't try to eavesdrop, though she was curious. It was a short interchange, anyway, until he gave her the phone back, his frown having deepened. “I'm back,” she said.

“Lizzie, I just told your husband an abbreviated version of what I told you, and informed him that I have a failsafe protocol in effect to warn him and you if what I'm doing here is not effective. But I don't anticipate that being an issue.”

“Uh huh.” Part of her still wanted to demand that he give them more details. He probably would if she insisted. And she honestly didn't know whether she would feel better or worse if she knew more. There was one thing she did know, however. “Red, just remember I want _you_ to be safe, too. I need you to be safe.”

“I know,” he said, voice gentle again. “Good night, Lizzie.”

“Bye,” she said, and then he had hung up. She blew out a breath, put down her phone, and scrubbed both of her hands over her face. “He hadn't told you any of this?”

“No,” said Ressler. “He just said, on the phone a minute ago, that he didn't want me to have to keep secrets from you.”

She scoffed. “That's... noble, or something.”

“It's something, for sure,” said Don wryly. He stood. “I guess I'll go ahead and make sure our people are on alert, even though he won't give us anything concrete.”

“Yeah,” said Liz. “And after that, as awkward a transition as this is, I'm going to need dinner.”

Pausing, his own phone in hand, Don smiled. “Not a problem. Just think about what you want while I make these calls.”

She already knew. It was the same craving she'd had, on and off, for most of her pregnancy: meat. It was almost embarrassing, how predictable she'd been. It was as if her body's reaction to not being allowed to transform was to make sure she still 'hunted' as often as possible. She had plenty of days where she wanted something else, but it didn't take too long for her to come back around to wanting steak, or at least some dish with plenty of red meat in it.

Thankfully, that didn't seem to bother her husband. He agreed readily enough to go out to a place that they knew had good steak, and didn't even tease her about it. He did, however, show surprise when she wanted hers rare. After the waiter had left, he said, “That's really what you want? Normally you order medium.”

“Yeah, I didn't forget,” said Liz shortly. “But that is what I want. At least, that's what our son, or my hormones, or something is making me think I want. I don't usually like the texture of rare meat. Not in human form, anyway.”

Don nodded. “Well, if you still don't like it, you can always ask the waiter to take it back and get it cooked more.”

Liz stayed silent. It was too weird, to have no idea whether she would actually enjoy the food she craved. She picked at the bread that came as an appetizer with the meal. She knew she wasn't being much of a conversation partner at the moment, but it was hard to focus.

“Are you all right, Liz?” Don asked, inevitably.

She did her best to get a grip. There was no reason to take anything out on him. “I'm fine. I just feel a little... off, I guess. Not sick or anything. Maybe I'm just worried about Red, and whatever he's doing.”

“We can go home, if you'd rather do that,” Don offered.

“No,” Liz said quickly. “I'm definitely hungry.” She took a drink of water, then grimaced as her abdominal muscles tightened. That in turn made the baby start to move, as if in protest. She put a hand on the swell of her stomach. _Sorry, baby,_ she thought. _I'm not a fan, either, but it's going to be okay._ Within moments, he had stilled, and she looked up at Don, eyes wide. “Oh my God, I can't believe I hadn't realized that before!”

“What?”

Liz paused as their entrees arrived. At least the steak smelled good. Then she told him, _I didn't think about talking to the baby this way. But just because he doesn't have any telepathic ability of his own, at least not right now, doesn't mean he can't hear me. And I think he just did. He was kicking, and I think he calmed down when I told him it was going to be okay!_

“Wow,” Don whispered.

“I don't think it was the first time, either,” she said quietly, as more evidence came to mind. “I think I've done it before, without even realizing it. I mean, he hasn't been kicking enough to keep me awake at night hardly ever, in the past – month, or maybe six weeks.” She shook her head, and stroked the area where he was, again. “And I do think I started trying to talk to him around that time, without expecting that he could understand at all, of course.” Hardly even paying attention, she picked up her knife and fork and started to cut into her meat.

“Liz, that's amazing,” said Don, also speaking quietly. “So he already knows your telepathic voice?”

She smiled. “I think he does.” Then she took a bite of the steak and experienced two opposite reactions – part of her thought it might just be the best thing she'd ever eaten, and part of her wanted to spit it out immediately because of the texture. She choked, but then the first reaction won out and she finished the bite and swallowed. “Ugh. Okay, I've got to try not to notice the texture of this steak, or this is not going to be a very fun meal. Or, well, it'll be very weird, anyway, because I'll both love it and have to choke it down.”

He made a face. “Sorry. That sounds... uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” she said. She closed her eyes and focused, then ate another bite. It helped – sort of. “This is not one of the pregnancy side-effects my books talk about. I didn't know it was possible. It's like a split personality or something, triggered by food. Not quite like that, though. Thankfully.”

“Because you're still just you, even if one shape likes rare meat and the other doesn't,” said Don.

She blinked. She had been wondering if he had gotten it – and clearly, he had. “That's right.” She smiled again, and reached across the table to touch his hand. Then she laughed. “I'd still prefer not to have my dinner with a side of minor existential crisis, though.”

He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed lightly. “Does it help if you think of it as just temporary existential... confusion, instead, that we can assume will be over once you have the baby?”

She chuckled. “I don't know how much that helps me actually eat this steak, but 'temporary existential confusion' sounds like the subtitle of some kind of sociological study of youth in Western culture that I had to read to get my degree.” She took another successful bite.

“That, or some really awful emo album,” said Don. After they had both laughed, there was a brief lull in the conversation. Then he leaned forward slightly, and once again spoke in a very low voice. “So if our kid can hear you, does that mean you can hear him? I mean, sort of, like you can sort of hear me?”

She raised her eyebrows. _Well, I doubt he'd have very clear thoughts, even if he had any telepathic ability. But I don't know. Let me see._ She closed her eyes again, and imagined looking for her son's mind. And sure enough, she found him. It was difficult to identify anything like meaningful thoughts or even emotions. But he seemed calm. Opening her eyes, Liz cleared her throat around the lump that had formed. _I can hear him. Kind of. Enough that I'll recognize his mind from now on._

Don looked almost as overwhelmed as she felt. He blinked eyes that glittered with emotion. “Wow. I mean, I already know we're about to have a baby. But this makes it somehow more real. We're going to meet that little person soon.”

Liz beamed. “I know.” Then an idea occurred to her. _Do you want to – do you want me to try to pass on what I heard?_

He blinked rapidly again. “I do. I definitely do. But maybe you should wait until we're back home, or I might make a scene.”

Giggling, Liz nodded. “Got it. Remind me when we get back, although I don't think I'll forget the chance to see my serious, tough-guy husband cry.”

His mouth quirked. “Hey, you like it when I show my sensitive side.”

“I never said I didn't like it,” she pointed out. “In fact, you showing your sensitive side about our baby is not only sweet, it also makes me want to do something else that should wait for home.” His eyes darkened, and she raised an eyebrow. Then she sighed. “Although, that's supposed to possibly induce labor, so maybe we shouldn't tonight at all.”

Don blew out a breath. “Well, for a normal dinner out, this has been quite the roller coaster.”

Liz shrugged helplessly. “Yeah, I guess it has. Sorry about that.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I'm not complaining.”

Privately, she wasn't sure she completely believed that he didn't mind. She appreciated him not complaining about things she couldn't control, but that didn't prevent her from feeling guilty. Still. She should at least finish the meal that had been the reason for this whole production in the first place. And she should not forget to be thankful that having Don by her side made even the more unexpected weirdness of this process seem a little more manageable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the arrival of their son!  
> I apologize if any of the birth stuff is inaccurate/unrealistic. I did do some research, but have no personal experience to draw from.

It was less than a week later that it happened. Red was still not back, although he'd called one more time to say he didn't expect to take much longer. Liz was still trying not to worry. At least she and Don had now both experienced what their son 'sounded' like, which had been a highlight (and her husband had, in fact, teared up when she'd showed him).

As it turned out, however, Red's promise wasn't quite good enough. Liz was finishing her shower for the morning when she felt her abdominal muscles tighten – and this time, it was much more forceful than the Braxton-Hicks contractions she was used to. Still, once it had passed, she dismissed it and continued her morning routine.

But she had only just stepped out of the bathroom and started to get dressed when the pain hit again. She had to sit down abruptly on the bed and remind herself to breathe for the seemingly interminable time it took for this one to pass. Don, she knew, was already downstairs, almost ready for a half-day's work. If this was it, she guessed she ought to tell him before he left.

Liz swallowed, stood up, and went for comfortable clothes that were easy to take off. _What do you think, baby?_ she asked silently, rubbing a hand over her belly and trying to stay calm. _Is today the day?_ Of course, even if the baby had been able to think anything that complicated, he would have no idea that there was even something waiting for him on the outside.

Her uncertainty as to whether to tell Don yet lasted until she reached the top of the stairs and nearly buckled under the next contraction. _Don!_ she yelled, with no breath to do it out loud, _I think I'm in labor!_

There was a clattering sound from the kitchen, and then he rushed to the base of the stairwell. “Are you sure?”

She gasped in a breath. “No, not completely, but that's three contractions in the last twenty minutes. And they hurt. I think these are the real ones.”

“Okay. Okay, um, let's get you downstairs, and then I'll get the bag.” He ran up to meet her, and then put her arm over his shoulder.

“There's nothing wrong with my legs,” she grumbled, but she didn't move her arm. They made it downstairs without incident, and he escorted her to the couch.

“I'll be right back, honey,” he told her, running a hand over his face. “Just gotta get the bag, and our phones. I need to update our security, too.”

“Yeah,” she said. “But don't hurt yourself flying upstairs. I'm not pushing yet, or anything.”

His eyes widened. “Please don't joke about that.”

She had reason to be grateful that he was supporting her on the way out to the car with their things. Another contraction almost knocked her over, and it didn't pass until he had already helped her into the car. “Thanks,” she said. Then she took out her phone and dialed Dembe.

As Don pulled the car out and pointed them toward the hospital, the phone rang and rang and then went to voicemail. “You're going to miss it, Red,” she said, and then hung up and shoved the phone back in her purse. “Damn it.” In spite of herself, a tear leaked out of her eye and down her cheek.

“Maybe he's already on his way,” said Don, glancing at her sympathetically.

“Then he should answer the phone,” she said, wiping her face.

By the time they got to the hospital, Liz had texted Samar and Cooper, and, at Don's suggestion, Deborah, as well. As she was escorted quickly to the labor and delivery ward, Liz called Dembe one more time, with the same result. Then she did her best to let go and let that issue turn out how it would.

“Now, your birth plan says you don't want an epidural, correct?” said the nurse who helped Liz change into a hospital gown.

“That's right,” said Liz. She had already had more than enough experience with paralytic drugs in her life.

“Okay, but remember you can change your mind at any point,” the woman said.

“I won't change my mind,” Liz said, then groaned as another contraction struck. Then she froze. “I think my water just broke.”

“Let's get you up on the bed and take a look,” the nurse said calmly.

Unfortunately, though the nurse said she was doing fine, that apparently didn't mean that this stage was going to be over soon. Their midwife arrived after just a few more minutes, and stayed with her through some amount of time that was probably not as endless as it seemed. Even so, Liz was already exhausted, and she hadn't even started pushing yet.

“I didn't even have any breakfast,” Liz realized, during a period of calm between contractions. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. “That might have helped.”

“I think we put some snacks in the bag,” Don offered, stroking her hair out of her face.

“That would be a good idea,” said the midwife, Halley. “I'd recommend something easy to digest like crackers. And don't forget that you should eat and drink, too, Don, if you get hungry or thirsty.”

“Yeah, you'd better not pass out on me or anything,” Liz told him.

“I'm fine. I actually had breakfast,” he said, then dug out the sleeve of Ritz crackers that were in their hospital bag.

Liz ate several and then handed them back. “Thanks. Don't put them away. I'll probably want more later.”

“You need some water?”

“In a minute,” she gasped, grabbing his hand, as another wave hit her.

Don was reassuringly close and unfailingly gentle for the next several hours of this stage of labor. He didn't complain about having to walk with her around the ward over and over, or that she didn't have much to say besides wishing this would go somewhere, soon. “Did you ever call in to work?” she asked, as they finished one more lap around the hall, and re-entered her room.

He stared at her, and then laughed. “No. And if they've called to ask where I am, I didn't get it. But I should check.”

“Yeah, better get that unexcused absence excused,” she told him. “Before the work day's over. What time is it, anyway?” She thought she'd done a reasonably good job not obsessing about how long this was taking, but she had to ask sometime.

Don checked his watch. “It's almost two o'clock. We got here just after nine thirty.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Four and a half hours already?” Liz sighed and put her face in her hands.

“I know you don't want to hear this,” Halley said, “but it's very common for the labor for a first child to last at least twice this long.”

“Yeah, I remember reading that,” she moaned, leaning back on the bed again. She wondered why she'd bothered to shower that morning, since the amount of sweating she'd already done at this point had to have counteracted it.

“You are doing well, though, Liz,” Halley went on. “And everything's still happening like it should be.”

Don got off the phone quickly enough, and then they all jumped when it rang in his hand. “It's Dembe,” he said.

“What?” Liz sat up, heart pounding, and then fell back again as her muscles clenched. _Answer it!_ she told her husband. _I can't exactly talk right now._

“Where are you?” Don asked into the phone, and she didn't begrudge him his accusing tone in the least. Hers would have been even sharper. “Yeah. Hold on.” He paused, then spoke again, still tense. “No, she can't talk right now, and I think you know why. She's fine, though. Everything's still... The nurses and the midwife say she and the baby are fine.”

Liz reached for her mental sense of Red. But she still couldn't feel him, not even at the edge of her range. _How long until he gets here?_

Her husband repeated the question. Then he sighed and looked at her. “He said he won't make it any faster than six hours going at top speed.”

That wasn't surprising, given that she couldn't sense him. She nodded, and looked away. Logically, it wasn't like she would have actually wanted Red in the delivery room with her – it was crowded enough with the nurse (her name was Diane, Liz thought), Halley, and Don. But that didn't mean she didn't want him here, at the hospital.

Don came closer to her, and spoke in a quiet voice so that no one else would hear. “He says to tell you to focus on what you're doing and try not to think about him. And uh, he says he's proud of you.”

That was apparently too much for her tired and hormonal self to deal with, and she burst into tears – much to her own embarrassment and Don's dismay. “Listen, I have to go. Call if you have any updates,” he said, then hung up and quickly cupped her face in his hands. “Liz, sweetheart, it's going to be okay.”

“I – I know,” she sobbed, grabbing one of his hands where it was still on her face. “I know. I'm being stupid. But I just, I want him to be here.”

“That's not stupid,” he said, bending over to kiss her forehead. “It's not stupid at all. But you heard what he said, right? You've got a job to do right now. And it's a hard one, but I know you can. And I'm here for whatever you need.”

“Help me sit up,” she managed, breath still hitching. When she'd gripped his arms and pulled herself upright, she shifted positions so she could put her own arms around him, as well as they fit currently. _I'm really glad you're here. You know that, right?_

“Well, I'm not going to be anywhere else,” he said gently.

She laughed faintly. “Good.” Then she took a deep breath and let it out. And then her eyes widened. “Oh. I... I think I need to push now.”

“Let's take a look,” said Halley, who had been discreetly keeping her distance during their conversation. She came over and gave Liz a reassuring smile as Don helped her lean back again.

~~~~~~

True to expectations, Liz still endured another several hours of labor after that point. In fact, she'd still had more than an hour before she started to push, even. By the time she'd been pushing for more than two hours without a noticeable result, she could tell that Halley wasn't quite as calm about her delivery. She wasn't panicking, and Liz did her best to follow her lead, but it was hard not to want to give up.

“Liz,” said Halley, during a pause between contractions and pushing, “I don't want you to worry, but I also don't want this to be a decision we have to make by default: when would you be willing to consider a C-section?”

“Not yet,” she said, panting. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, willing herself not to totally freak out. Halley was just asking. It was her job. “I don't...” She opened her eyes and found Don's, gripping his hand tightly. “If it's medically necessary. That's all.”

“All right,” Halley said, nodding. “But let me know if you change your mind.”

Liz gritted her teeth and shook her head, before she felt the need to push again. She stopped thinking about anything else for the next period of time. She didn't allow herself to think about how very, very tired she was, or even that the alternative to finishing this way was to be paralyzed and have people (not just any people, she trusted these people, it wasn't like the last time) do things to her. Instead, she listened to Halley's encouragement, felt Don holding her hand, and kept going.

Finally, just when she was beginning to wonder if she could imagine changing her mind about the C-section, she summoned the energy for another push and immediately felt something different. And she cried out, and was pretty sure it was louder than she had screamed up to this point.

“Good, Liz! I can see the head!” Halley's voice seemed louder, too, although that might have been her imagination.

“Liz, we're almost there,” Don told her, and she heard the excitement underneath his own weariness.

She had no energy to respond, either out loud or telepathically. It was all she could do to just wait for Halley to tell her to push again, and do so when the directive came. Again, it hurt much more intensely than anything else she'd felt. But she was rewarded by Halley's announcement that their son's whole head was visible.

“Just a few more pushes, Liz.”

“I can't,” she whispered. “I can't. I'm done.”

“Come on, Liz,” Don said, leaning down and stroking her forehead. “Not yet. You can do this. You're so strong, honey. Just a little bit more.”

Tears had started in her eyes, and she couldn't imagine feeling less strong than she did now. Yet there was no option to give up now – not so close to the end. She closed her eyes for the space of a few breaths. And then she bore down again, and Halley said their son's shoulder was out. Not allowing herself to think too much about the pain, either, Liz held tightly to her husband's hand and made it through the next push, too.

“All right, Liz, that's great. You're doing great. With any luck, one more push and your son should be born,” Halley said.

“One more?” Liz asked, her voice barely audible even to herself.

“Yeah. You've got this, Liz,” said Don.

Again, she didn't bother to respond, but gripped his hand and summoned the last vestiges of energy she had for another push. And, finally, above her own ragged panting and all the other sounds of the room, she heard the sound of a baby crying. _He's here?_ she asked, turning her head slightly to see that there were tears in Don's eyes, too.

“He's here, Liz,” Don choked out. “You did it.”

She let go of his hand, her own fingers stiff enough that it was almost difficult to do so. “Go see him, honey.” Her vision was starting to blur, but she needed to stay awake long enough to actually see her baby, too.

And when Don brought the whimpering, tiny bundle that was Charles Samuel to her, she could feel her face split into a huge smile. “Hi, sweetie,” she said, and took him eagerly. “Oh, you're so beautiful.” His blue eyes widened as she stroked a finger across his face. She realized she wasn't even trying to stop herself from freely projecting all the love she was feeling, and he had to be able to feel it.

“He's perfect, Liz,” said Don, wiping tears off his own cheeks. Her husband could probably feel her emotional response, too, but she didn't think he minded.

“He is,” she agreed, and her eyes closed against her will. When they opened again, it was to the sensation of someone trying to take her son out of her arms. She tightened her grip, looking around wildly. “No!”

“Hey, hey,” Don said. “It's just me. Halley said they need to weigh and measure him, and run a few tests. I'll watch him the whole time, I promise. You just rest, sweetheart.”

Reluctantly, she let Don take the baby. “Okay.”

She drifted in and out of awareness for a little while after that. At one point, she came back to herself to someone – Halley, maybe – saying something in a somewhat alarmed tone. Her abdomen hurt, vaguely but enough that she couldn't ignore it. She'd thought that she was done. She'd delivered her son. Why was something else happening, now? _Don...? What's happening?_

“You still have to deliver the placenta,” said his voice, somewhere near her. He sounded worried. “It's taking you just a little longer than we'd like.”

_Oh,_ she said, struggling to keep her eyes open. _Sorry. I... didn't mean to make you worried._

Her husband made a choking sound. “No, Liz, I'm not mad at you. No one is. You don't have to apologize.”

_Okay,_ she said, and everything went dark again.

~~~~~~

The next time she was aware of anything, it came over her first that someone else was here. Someone who hadn't been here with her. There was a presence, and a voice – both very familiar. But she was so tired that she couldn't form any coherent words. She did pull off sending out a mental query.

“Lizzie?”

So it was him. He'd heard her. _Red. You're here._ Her eyelids were heavy, but she fought and finally opened them. There he was, sitting a few feet away from her bed, and Charles was in his arms. Her heart stuttered at the sight. “When did you get here?” she asked, startled at how hoarse her voice was.

“Just about half an hour ago,” Red said softly. “I understand I missed a more exciting end to this little one's birth than anyone would have preferred.”

Liz blinked. She couldn't decide which she wanted to look at more – her father's peaceful, wondering face, or the face of her sleeping newborn son in his arms. “I, uh, guess I kind of missed that, too.”

Red nodded. “That's probably for the best.”

“They called in the OB on duty. They were afraid you had a retained placenta,” said Don. He took a deep breath, though his voice still shook faintly as he continued. “That could have made you hemorrhage.”

She blinked again. “Oh. But I didn't. Bleed out, I mean.”

Her husband came over to her bedside and took her hand. “No. The doctor and the nurse fixed you up, got you to deliver the placenta before that was even close to happening.”

“Good,” she said. She thought she was probably thinking and reacting slower than usual. Then she frowned and raised her eyes from Red and Charles to search Don's face. “I should have – didn't Charles need to eat?”

“Don't worry about it. They fed him some formula in a little cup,” said Don. “He's fine. He's perfectly healthy. Oh, let me show you.” He released her hand and went to pick up a piece of paper from the counter, then brought it to her.

She took it. Her eyes had trouble focusing at first, but then she realized it was Charles' birth certificate. His weight was listed as eight pounds, three ounces, and everything else had been filled in as it should be. She recognized Don's handwriting for their son's name and the names of his parents. “Over eight pounds? No wonder you gave me trouble,” she said, gazing at the boy in question.

“His namesake, as I recall, kept us waiting nearly twelve hours,” Red said. “And I wasn't even allowed into the hospital room for company.”

Liz winced. “How long for me, Don?”

“About ten,” he said, and shook his head.

“I can't imagine any more than that,” she said. “And I really can't imagine having to go through that without you here.”

“I wouldn't want you to,” said Don. “Not that I did much.”

Before Liz could argue the point, Charles stirred in his grandfather's arms and immediately started to fuss. “I think I know who you need,” said Red, and handed him to Liz.

She took him, doing her best to sit up even though every part of her felt sore. “Hi, honey. Come here.”

“I'll go get a nurse, in case you need anything,” said Red. “Congratulations, Lizzie. He's beautiful.”

She looked up. “But you're not actually leaving, right?”

“Of course not,” he said. “If you think just a few minutes is enough time with my grandson, you're very much mistaken. I'll be close by.”

And Liz did appreciate having no audience besides her husband as she and Charlie figured out nursing. It was frustrating at first, and he was crying flat out from hunger before he latched on. Once he had done it, though, there was a peace to it that she hadn't known to expect.


	6. Chapter 6

There was an argument going on somewhere close. That was what she noticed this time, when she woke up. It wasn't in her room, she could tell, but it wasn't far away, either. And one of the people arguing was Don. It still felt like climbing out of a hole to make herself wake up, but she did. No one was in the room with her – including her son. Her heart pumping faster, she tried again to sit up, with minimal success. _Don, where's Charlie?_

The voices out in the hall paused for a moment, and then she clearly heard him say, voice tired, “I'm going to bring my son back to his mother. Come in if you want. I can't force you.”

Then he pushed open the door and came in with Charlie in his arms. After Don came his father. She gasped a little and pushed herself into a more convincingly seated position, though she grunted as her stomach muscles complained. “Oh, um, hi, Mark.” She was suddenly acutely aware that she didn't actually know how long it had been since she'd showered, and all the sweat and everything from labor was still on her. Of course this would be the way she looked the first time she saw her father-in-law since... well, since he'd become her father-in-law, for one thing. Without his presence at the wedding. Or in his son's life at all, until they'd been able to return to the US.

“Elizabeth,” said the man. He didn't actually glare at her, but he didn't smile, either. After a moment, however, he took a breath and asked, “How are you feeling? Don tells me little Charlie gave you quite the workout to come into the world.”

“Yeah, he did,” she said, and smiled at her son, who was looking around with wide eyes. “But I'm okay. Tired.”

“I bet you are,” he said. “It's a good thing he's cute, isn't it?”

Liz transferred her smile to Mark tentatively. “Exactly.”

There was a silence that threatened to grow exponentially more awkward. Don kept shooting glances at his dad. Liz wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the man had already been more civil to her than he could have. She was still having trouble thinking of anything at all, much less a safe conversation topic with him.

Finally, Mark spoke again. “So, Don told me a little when he came out to visit, but I did want to hear from you, too: why Arizona?”

Liz exchanged looks with Don. “Well, um, part of our arrangement, so we could come back, was that we should stick to more out-of-the-way places.” She swallowed. The less she had to talk about her criminal record, the better this might go. “And I like hot weather.”

“Hmm. I didn't think you were that big of a fan, Don,” Mark said to his son. “You and your mother always had to be careful in the sun, with that complexion.”

“It doesn't bother me,” Don said, irritated. “Like I told you, we talked about several options and this one seemed to fit best for both of us.”

Liz knew exactly what Mark was implying, and it stung. The weather had actually not been that big of a concern in their discussion (except that neither of them wanted to shoot for Alaska). However, some of their main considerations had been places where Red had trustworthy connections, and could help with their security. And that wasn't something either she or Don were likely to share with Mark. So she kept her mouth shut.

Charlie, as if sensing his mother's distress, started to whimper in Don's arms. “Hey, kid. You're okay,” said Don. “You want Mom? Yeah?”

He put the baby into her waiting arms. “Hi, Charlie. You're not hungry again already, are you?” She checked mentally, almost automatically, to see if she could tell. “Oh, I think you are.”

“Sweetheart, you haven't had any real food for hours,” Don said, his eyes widening. “You must be st– uh, hungrier even than this little guy.”

She raised an eyebrow to show him that she'd caught his slip, but didn't mind. “I guess I am, although I was too tired to notice until just now. But I'm not the one who's going to start crying if I don't get something right now.”

“Let me go ask the nurse about getting you a meal,” said Mark. He smiled stiffly, and left the room.

Mark showed no sign of wanting to leave the hospital, even several hours later (not that she actually wanted him to, exactly). It was inevitable, then, Liz supposed, that the tension all three of them felt would come to a head at some point. It was just a surprise that she didn't cause the eruption – at least not directly.

Red knocked lightly on her door and came in an hour after lunch. Charlie was asleep in the bassinet the hospital had provided, after Liz reluctantly agreed that in case she fell asleep, herself, it was safer than her holding him all the time. Don and his dad had stepped out for a few minutes, so Red was in the middle of telling Liz just a little about where he'd been when the other two came back in. Red and Mark had never met, but it was obvious by the barely-concealed horror on Mark's face that he knew on sight who Red was.

Red must have seen his reaction, but all her father said was, “Ah, you must be Donald's father. I'm Raymond Reddington. It's wonderful to meet you at last.” He didn't hold out a hand, though, for once apparently restraining himself.

Don shot a look of minor panic at Liz. They hadn't really had the chance to discuss how this meeting might go. Liz returned his look helplessly.

Meanwhile, Mark cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Mark Ressler.”

“You're from Maryland, I believe?” Red said pleasantly. “How was your flight here?”

Though definitely still uncomfortable, Mark continued to at least offer the minimally polite reply to Red's attempts to engage him in small talk. This wasn't too bad until Mark asked a few questions of his own, which would have been normal questions for someone who wasn't Red. But they were pointedly not normal for him – questions about where he lived, and how his work was going.

Red, on the other hand, was just as pointedly evasive in his responses. He managed to look like he was enjoying the exchange, too, which was obviously irritating Mark even more. Not that Liz would say that Mark was the only one in the room whose tension was rising.

Finally, she looked at the clock and said, “Uh, sorry, everyone, but I think the nurse is coming in to give me a checkup soon. And I'll need the room for that. Of course.” And it was true, and the examination went fine, and the nurse said her body was recovering well from the trauma of giving birth. And that was very good to hear. She also had the chance to clean herself up a little bit, which was a relief.

But it was also obvious that the tension of everyone who had been in the hospital room (apart from Charlie, who was still asleep) hadn't lessened. Liz decided to try to meet it head on when the three men came back in. She was actually glad Mark came in first. She'd already picked up her son from the bassinet, and he hadn't so much as made a sound. “Mark, have you gotten to hold Charlie yet? He's pretty solidly out. You could take him if you wanted.”

With a completely genuine smile, her father-in-law agreed. “I'd love to.” Very carefully, he transferred the baby to his own arms. She saw a crease appear on Charlie's tiny forehead for a moment, but then he relaxed again. “There we go.” Mark looked back at Liz. “Don told me he was over eight pounds at birth.” He chuckled softly. “Did he tell you that he was, too? But he was such a good kid, even as a baby. Don's mom said his childhood must have been easy just to balance out the hard work and pain he caused being born.”

Liz smiled, though she couldn't think of anything to say to that, that wouldn't immediately turn into an apology for Don not being home for his mother's funeral. Eventually, she settled for remarking, “Well, maybe Charlie will take after his dad in that, too.”

Red came in on the heels of that remark, and wanted to know what traits they had been discussing.

“Mark was just telling me I might have Don's genes to blame for Charlie's size at birth,” she explained. “But he also said that, if so, maybe we'll get his genes for good behavior, too.”

Red didn't reply right away. In fact, he looked somewhat miffed for the first time since the other man had arrived. When she attempted to find out why, her eyes widened. _No, Red. That's not what I – not what he means. He was just sharing a story about Don as a baby, not insulting me or you._

Her father still didn't answer, but the irritation faded.

Mark had apparently not noticed anything amiss, perhaps because he was looking at Charlie. When he did look up, however, it was to clear his throat and ask, “What about you, Raymond? You must have a story or two about Elizabeth as a little girl.”

Liz met her father's suddenly dark eyes. If Mark had been looking at her, he might have seen the tears starting in her own. _He doesn't know. You know he doesn't know. No one told him._

But then, unexpectedly, Red smiled. “Unfortunately I wasn't able to be present when she was born. However, I do know that perhaps her most defining characteristic was obvious from a very early age. I remember a little girl who knocked over another child at preschool because he stole a friend's toy. She got in trouble, of course, but that boy never bothered her or the other girl again.”

Liz hardly saw or heard what Mark did in response to that. She was too busy staring at Red and trying not to cry. _Sam told you that? And you still remember?_

 _Though I won't claim a perfect record, I did my very best to remember every story he told me about you, Lizzie,_ said Red softly. _Along with the pictures he found a way to send to me when he could, oftentimes they were the brightest spot in my otherwise dim and chaotic life._

Giving up in her effort not to cry, Liz sniffed and wiped a hand under her eyes. She at least didn't want to dissolve into sobs and thereby make Mark go back to being extremely uncomfortable. _Well, I'm glad of that._

The detente lasted the rest of that day, which was the first full day of Liz's hospital stay. After dinner, however, for which Don and Mark had gone out together, another argument broke out between them. Liz had told Red to bring Dembe into the room this time, since she'd learned that he hadn't wanted to bother her. She was thrilled to give him the chance to meet Charlie, but her happiness dimmed somewhat when she heard the raised voices outside in the hall.

Still, she didn't want to assume the argument had to do with her, and even if it did, Don hadn't asked for her input. She refused to make things worse by interfering without being asked. Instead, she resolutely turned her attention to Dembe's delighted grin as he rocked Charlie gently in his arms. “He is wonderful, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, and then laughed as Charlie's little hand grasped Dembe's finger. “I think he likes you, too.”

Don came in then, his face flushed. He visibly calmed himself before speaking. “I guess my dad's going home tomorrow.”

“He just got here,” Liz said, blinking.

“I know,” he said shortly. “Believe me, I pointed that out.”

“Don. What happened?” she asked.

“He's being an ass. I don't want to talk about it,” said Don.

“Language, Donald, really, in front of your son,” Red said mildly.

Don scoffed. “Right.”

“Where is he right now?” Liz asked, ignoring that exchange.

“Headed back to his hotel,” Don said.

Liz nodded, already making plans to follow up on this. Her resolution not to interfere, she decided, didn't extend to this. Whatever they had argued about, her husband was now hurt. Plus, she didn't want Charlie not to have the opportunity to know one of his grandfathers because of this. She wanted to think that might be an overreaction, but for Mark to leave so soon and so suddenly seemed pretty serious.

Once visiting hours were over, and she, Don, and Charlie were the only people in the room – Charlie already being fed again even though it seemed like she'd just done that – Liz waited until Don was sitting down and then asked again. “Don, what happened with your dad today?”

He sighed. “I told you I didn't want to talk about it.”

“I know. And I thought about just leaving it at that, since you know your dad a lot better than I do, so you have a better idea about where he's coming from.” She bit her lip. “But this is about Charlie, now. I don't know what the argument about, but what I do know is that Mark loves Charlie and I want them to have a relationship.”

Don put his head in his hands. He looked up again after a minute, but only barely met her eyes. “I want that, too.”

Liz paused to burp her son and then switch him to the other side. “Then why won't you even tell me what happened?” she asked, when Charlie was settled again.

“Liz, my dad doesn't understand, okay?” Don said. “He wanted to know who Dembe was, and I told him, and it was like he was waiting for a reason to go off on me – but mostly on your father and you.”

Looking down at her son and running a finger through his fine, wispy hair, she nodded. “Oh.” The fact that this both explained perfectly why he wouldn't want to tell her while also confirming her suspicions of how Mark felt about her wasn't comforting at all. “Is it the fact that you decided to marry me, knowing you were marrying into a family of criminals, that he doesn't understand? Because it's actually pretty understandable, in itself, that he would have a problem with that.”

Don was silent for long enough that she looked up again. When she did, his expression was thunderous. When he spoke, however, it was in a quiet, pained voice. “How the hell can _you_ say that to me, Liz? What, you – you don't want me to be with you, now?”

“That's not what I said,” she snapped back immediately, also keeping her voice low with an effort. “And if you think that's what I meant, after everything we've been through, then I don't even know why we're here!”

Her husband blinked rapidly, and then wiped a hand under his eyes. “Fine. Then I need you to explain why you said that.”

“All I meant is that I'm not mad at your dad for being worried about you and your son, considering how we've spent our lives the last few years – or longer, if you're talking about Red.” Liz paused and made sure she knew exactly how she wanted to phrase the punchline. “I am, however, furious if he thinks so little of you that he imagines you'd be all right with raising your child with some kind of sociopath, or in a world where his family just accepts the possibility of him being in danger every second of his life – if he can't realize how much we have all given so that we can have even a little bit of peace.” By the time she was finished, there were tears on her cheeks, too, but she didn't drop her gaze from his.

Don was silent again for a time, and then he blew out a breath. “I guess that's why I'm mad, too. Although I don't think I put it quite as clearly to him as you just did.” He shook his head. “I know I didn't, actually.”

“Don, I don't want you to ever think that anyone's opinion about us will make me guilty enough, or embarrassed enough, or anything, to want you to leave me, or make me leave you,” said Liz. She smiled down at Charlie, who was falling asleep now, and gently shifted him off her. When she had readjusted the gown to cover herself, she sat up and laid Charlie down in the bassinet. “I don't want that to include family members, but even if it does, I believe in us. Our son is proof of that.”

Don stood and walked so he could crouch next to Charlie and run the backs of two fingers across his cheek. “Yeah.” Then he stood again and bent over to kiss her, his voice rough with emotion when he spoke. “I do, too.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand. “And if you really think your dad won't understand that, then I guess he goes home tomorrow and we try to deal with it. But if you think we can at least convince him not to give up on us entirely, if only for Charlie's sake, then I think we have to try.”

“I'll call him. Hopefully he hasn't gone to bed early,” said Don. He squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Liz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for this part of the story! But don't worry, Namarie and I have more to share in this series.
> 
> Thanks for reading, folks!


End file.
